STEPBROTHER BLOOD LOVER – BOOK ONE – BY LANA FOX
1.
Darren
I only remember fragments from the first night. I knew she was a woman with teeth that felt divine and ravaged my neck, filling my body with ecstatic darkness—a riot of release. It was a feeling of being fused with the earth, as if I’d become the soil, the roots, the buried depths of everything. I remember her long, soft hair, her breasts against my chest, and her thighs sliding bare against my own. Her scent was everywhere. At one point I howled with absolute bliss, my body so brimming with pleasure-charged power that my cock seemed to explode into the night, climax after climax hitting my trembling body. I drank from her throat too, deeply, powerfully, so that every mouthful delivered me to heights of pleasure. Even though her hands were on my chest and her fangs were at my throat, my cock responded sexually as if it was deep in her cunt, and that’s how it felt. These were the deepest set of orgasms I’d ever experienced. Pure bestial glee.
After that, I have only flashes of memory. So much new information was forming in my mind—I was understanding the world in dark new ways that seemed to sabotage my brain. I was unconscious for a while after the frenzy. When I woke I was alone, and I think I walked home. I didn’t care about the rough neighborhood because I was rough now, with the moon overhead and violence thudding behind my eyes.
I craved and I knew I could take. My prey was all around me. I could smell every human, their skin, their desires.
When women passed me, they craned their necks, staring at me thirstily through made-up eyes. Even those with a man draped around them sent me hankering gazes, as if they sensed what I’d give them if they surrendered. I could smell them, every inch of them: their perfume, their fears, their scented hair, their sweet, beating blood. This was suddenly a world of thirst, of flesh to bite, of perfect scents, of hands that clung to me desperately, and palpitating veins. I could bite with new teeth or stare with new eyes and orgasm deeply from that alone. So what would happen when I really fucked? I needed to find out.
Power rushed through me. I was hungry for my fill.
But the one I wanted most was Helene.
Helene always felt like a sister to me, not a step sister—stupid word—but flesh-and-blood family. That’s why my cravings had scared me in the past. A couple of years before, when she’d forgotten to lock the bathroom and I’d stepped in to find her standing there, eyes wide with alarm, I was nailed to the spot with lust. Nineteen years old, she was wet and naked, her ivory skin beaded with water from the shower, and I could only stare down her glistening body—her breasts so big and pale with plum-colored tips, and her hips the kind that could rock you to heaven. I hadn’t known my cock could get as hard as it did then.
Hard as steel.
That’s how it felt.
I was sixteen at the time, and my body was a constant surprise. Back in my room, I shocked myself by coming so hard that I covered the wall with come, just from one lustful sight of her naked body, just from the thought of her breasts, damp in my hands, so weighty and full as she moaned beneath me. I imagined my cock buried in her cunt, lunging into her over and over, as she called me brother . Oh yes, I could see that cock of mine so buried in that perfect cunt, unleashing stream after stream until her pussy was brimming….
I masturbated several times in a row. The whole house must have heard my cries.
After that, there were too many incidents to count. Once, she was leaving for a party, wearing a stunning blood red, backless dress. I hugged her goodbye and she smelled sublime, as if she’d rubbed lotion all over her skin, as if she’d bathed in cream and dusted her skin with powder. I pressed my hands onto her back, running them up and down her flesh. “You look stunning,” I said.
She clasped me close. “Thanks,
Learning to Kill: Stories